Posts Tagged Under Writing Mamas
Ditch the Care Bears and Have Some Ice Cream
The fact that I am finding the time to write this while wrapped in a towel on the couch as my children play a game in the bathroom featuring characters named Charlie Pimple and Diaper should qualify me as a writing mama. I’ve been one since the day darling Frances (aka Charlie Pimple) arrived on the scene.
However, being a Writing Mama is a whole different ball of Play-Doh.
The Writing Mamas are the ice cream truck at the park of local writing groups. They’ve been written up here, there and everywhere for their cold and creamy menu of treats such as excellent guest speakers, (authors, agents, publishers) and networking time, followed by critique circles. Special events like the Mama Monologues where members read their work are the M&Ms on top of the ice cream.
By Kaitlyn GallagherDon’t Judge a (Face)book by its Cover
It seems to be trendy to express contempt for Facebook. “I would never waste my time with that,” or “why would I care that someone is buying a sandwich?” are a few common retorts I heard recently. It fascinates me that socially liberal people who gladly accept anyone based on their race, gender or age quickly dismiss others based on their technology.
When I tell them I love Facebook, I am immediately downgraded in their opinion as someone whose mental age hovers around puberty. Continue… »
By Paula ChapmanWhen the Bloom of Friendship Fades
When I was pregnant with my first child and tried to imagine all the ways my life would change once I became a mother, I didn’t think about my own friendships. I worried about the inevitable loss of independence and freedom, about the impact, positive and negative, of a child on my marriage, and about silly vain things like getting fat and my boobs shrinking. Yet I didn’t really give much thought to the role that friendships play in my life and how much my relationships with my close friends would evolve and change in the coming years.
Some changes come with the territory of being married—we do (appropriately enough) turn more to our husbands now than we do to our friends for advice and solace. As a result, we share less with our friends, and consequently our friends are less in tune with the nuances of our lives. Some of it has to do with age—we go out less, have quiet nights at home more, and socialize less. But a lot of it has to do with having kids. Continue… »
By Eliza Harding TurnerTeacher’s Hugs a Touchy Subject
My daughter’s elementary school had just let out for summer when I received an e-mail with disturbing news. An adored PE teacher–young, single and charismatic–had resigned after school administrators expressed concern over his affectionate ways with our kids.
One of the things I’ve always loved about our school is its warm, nurturing culture. Both students and their families appreciate, and even expect, hugs from teachers, most of whom are female. In my daughter’s case, at least, I believe that the special bonds she’s formed with her teachers have been as valuable as what she’s learned in class. Continue… »
By Dorothy O'DonnellWild Man
Courtesy,www.castlegar.ca
My husband David loves fishing. I married a man whose Dad would drop him off with his rod, reel, and bait at a fishing spot in Greenbrae and not come back to get him for a few hours. David spends a good part of our summers plotting his next fishing trip. He will search for the perfect fly, make dates with experienced guides, e-mail back and forth to his fishing buddy, and more, just to be able to cast his line in clean waters and catch and release rainbow trout.
Upon his return, I take in his fishing stories with all the interest I can muster as I love fish, but that is when I am eating them. I call him a “Wild Man” as he recounts hiking through treacherous brambles where fresh mountain lion droppings are evident on boulders nearby. Continue… »
By Cynthia RoveroTrust and Gratitude
I have been on a spiritual path for some years now, and one of the things I have been learning recently is how to trust. Trust in a Higher Power, trust in the Universe, trust in myself.
Having gratitude has been an important factor in helping me to trust. Writing a gratitude list every day is supposed to be especially helpful. I say the list in my head rather than writing it down as I’m just too damn lazy! It doesn’t seem to matter though as I really feel like the magic is starting to work. Continue… »
By Claire HennessyThe Four Musketeers
Courtesy flickr.com
The girls met the first day of kindergarten, peering out from behind our legs as we tried to pry them loose with reassurances and fake smiles. We clutched our daughters with one hand, Kleenex with the other. The teacher, soft and ample as a grandmother, coaxed the girls onto the rug for circle time, while the Parent Club coaxed us away with coffee and pastries.
Before long, we couldn’t pry the girls away from each other. Felicia, Rose, Shannon, and my Emma were inseparable, like a litter of exuberant puppies. Everybody called them the Four Musketeers. Continue… »
By Lorrie GoldinA Preventable Epidemic
When my nine-year-old daughter and I walked into the pediatrics waiting room, we noticed most of the patients wore yellow surgical masks. When they coughed, I did not need to ask why they needed medical attention.
One might think that my daughter and I were in Africa, Mexico, or a very impoverished part of Los Angeles. Afterall, children in the United States have been vaccinated for whooping cough (also known as pertussis) for decades.
But we were at Kaiser Terra Linda, which is located in wealthy, educated Marin County. One of the county’s biggest outbreaks of whooping cough is occurring at my children’s schools located in Fairfax and San Anselmo. In 2009, 7.1 percent of Marin County’s parents exempted their children from kindergarten immunizations. Vaccine programs rely on herd immunity, and when a sizeable proportion of the population does not protect themselves, everyone is at risk. Continue… »
By Beth TouchetteGuilt of the Well-to-Do
“No comprendo.” That’s what I want to say as Lupe pauses from cleaning the kitchen to tell me about her weekend. But between my fractured Spanish and her broken English, I understand all too well.
Besides, the meaning of a finger slicing across a throat is universal.
Fighting tears, Lupe tells me that her relatives fell victim to an attempted carjacking on Saturday. Her sister-in-law screamed when their assailants tried to snatch her baby, and Lupe’s husband and father-in-law were knifed and badly beaten.
By Lorrie GoldinWhat Came First, The Grandmother Or The Egg?
I just became a grandmother. Pepita, as we affectionately call her, sleeps a lot, nestled in her bunny-bedecked bed. She is tiny, her head a perfect oval, as bald as an egg.
Maybe that’s because Pepita is an egg. My 13-year-old daughter just brought her home as part of Family Life’s attempt to prevent teenage parenthood. All eighth graders are charged with 24/7 responsibility for their hard-boiled infants. No overnight sojourns in the refrigerator next to the leftovers, no cracks or substitutions, no transformations into egg salad allowed. During P.E. or nights out on the town, a reputable eggsitter must be found. My daughter even has to read 20 minutes a day to Pepita. Unlike with real babies, no pages can be skipped, and the egg’s grandparents must vouch for this exemplary parental behavior in writing. Also unlike with real babies, the experiment with teen parenting lasts only five days, and no college tuition must be salted away.
By Lorrie Goldin